Girlie
by Aownr1669
Summary: Because deep down, despite being a survivor, I'm still clinging to the last vestige of life as it used to be.  Daryl X OC.  Rated M because you'll probably all talk me into going "there."  Fluff and nothing but.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N Total and utter fluff. Not gonna apologize, it's just what's coming out right now. I think it's withdrawal. Six...more...days! If you're gonna alert, ya' better leave a review!_

Girlie.

Part 1

It had taken awhile for him to get to this point. Surprisingly, Mr. Daryl Dixon, while amazingly swift at dispatching walkers, deer and the wily squirrel, was painstakingly slow at bringing down a lady. It was, well, like he was almost afraid to. Truth be told, we were both more than a little afraid to. Shit, most people nowadays would consider the end of the world a hall pass of sorts and nail everything on two non-rotting legs just on the principle "it might be our last day on earth." Not me. Apparently, certainly not Daryl.

I knew that he was shy. It took him days to say anything more than a grunt. Most of the time he would just nod. Or frown. If I caught him looking at me, he'd turn away quickly, embarrassment on his face. Idiot. End of the world and I have to pick out the one guy who's not acting like, well, a guy. I started to play a game of "don't get caught" watching him. I hope I wasn't failing miserably, at least I don't think I was. We rarely made eye contact. I don't know, maybe we're both not wanting to get anything started, not wanting to complicate things. Lord knows things are complicated enough. But still, it'd been a long time. A real long time.

He has this habit of chewing on his thumbnail when he's distracted, deep in thought. More often than not, I'd catch a glimpse of that hand going up and I'd count to ten to myself and then look at him and sure enough. Fleeting glimpse. Finally after a couple weeks of this, I just looked at him dead on. Straight in the eyeballs. One slow blink...and then I turned away with the slightest of Mona Lisa smiles. Just a hint. I would have loved to see his reaction after I turned, but I was too busy trying to be cool myself. Pretending. It's hard to be cool around Daryl Dixon. He's like nitroglycerine. One bump, one false move and he'll go off...and when he does, you don't want to be anywhere near. Boom. There he goes.

We won't even talk about the sweating-part. Makes me sweat just thinking about watching him around camp. Sleeveless shirts with those muscles. Just enough sweat and dirt and stubble to look like the guy on the cover of a cheap romance novel. He moves like no one I've ever seen before. Cautious, watching every step he makes but just barely maintaining control. Ready to fight at any moment. Volatile. Twitchy. When he's mad he's animated, arms flailing, legs on springs, gesturing wildly, his voice loudly spouting venom and insults, almost _too _much. It's as if he wears his anger like a shield...or insulation.

I've seen him move when he's hunting too. Predator. No other word for him. Sure-footed, soundless, totally in his element. The contrast is kinda' un-nerving between the two. Makes him complicated, which doesn't seem to be the vibe he tries to throw. He wants everyone to think he's the simple, uneducated, whiskey-drinking, Marlboro-smoking perennial redneck. I don't think he is, though. There's a lot going on behind those baby blues. A lot.

When Rick brought back a compound bow on one of their "raids," as the women have started calling them, it surprised me that no one fessed up to actually shooting one before. The guys all said they had used them and were satisfied with their guns. Shane and Rick both felt that this was a weapon that would be handy because of the relative quiet it afforded. It was also deadly as hell. But definitely _not _for close-quarter combat, as Daryl pointed out. Had to have some room to shoot it. He wasn't so enthusiastic about somebody picking it up.

So, when Shane asked Andrea if she wanted to learn how to use it and she declined, I spoke up about having had a semester of archery in college and that I'd at least actually shot a compound bow once or twice before. I said I would try, but I'd need a lot of practice. Little did I know. Shane was skeptical at first, I know because of my size, telling me he didn't think I was strong enough to use it. Well, now I _know _I have to, I thought. Instead of telling him to go fuck himself, I just grinned. "We'll see." I said.

Rick and T-Dog helped set up a place to practice on the outskirts of camp. Damn Shane was right. The draw on the bow was a real bitch, but that wasn't going to deter me. My arm hurt like a mother, but no way was I going to admit that. I practiced morning and evening, insisting on being by myself. I hated when people watched me.

Within a couple weeks the shoulder and arms went from a feeling of being on fire to a dull ache and I was getting pretty sure of myself. I'll bet I walked five miles a day back and forth to retrieve arrows. I was hitting the target mostly now, and more often than not, hitting clusters towards the center, where T-Dog had spray-painted a circle for a bullseye.

"Want me to loosen that draw now?" the voice from behind me said quietly as I raised the bow and sighted in the target. I lowered the bow and turned around to find Daryl sitting on a fallen log, behind me, studying his fingernails. His legs were sprawled lazily in front of him, his Horton leaning against a thigh. His hair was ruffled and he looked like he'd just gotten back from a day in the woods.

"_Now_?" I repeated.

"Well, din't want to startin' out. Had to build up yer' arm."

"You knew how much I was struggling and you could have fixed it?" I said, walking towards him.

He grinned sheepishly. "Ain't strugglin' no more. Hit it."

"What?" I said, a hand on my hip.

"Hit tha' target. Go on. Take a shot. From here." he said, putting his hand down and standing up. We were about three foot apart. The target wasn't quite what I wanted to hit right now. I turned, sighted in and let one fly. It missed the little spray-painted circle by about an inch.

Daryl nodded, a little half-grin on his face. "Nice," he said quietly. "But can ya' do that with a pack a' walkers runnin' at ya'?"

"Dunno. Why don't you go over there and we'll pretend?" I said, looking at him blankly.

"What, you're pissed 'cause I din't make it easy on ya'?" he said. "That made ya' stronger."

"Well, gee, I guess I should thank you for letting me flounder out here for two weeks all by myself then?"

"Weren't flounderin'."

"How would _you _know?" I snorted. His thumb instantly went to his mouth and he rolled his eyes. "What?" I said. "You were watching?"

He frowned. "Course I 's watchin'. Ain't gonna' let a _girl _out here by herself. What if a walker'd come along?" I hated the way he said girl, almost like it was a bad thing.

"I would have shot him!" I said, my voice raised in exasperation. "You think I can't shoot a walker?"

"I think you ain't never shot one with a bow." he said, taking the bow out of my hands gingerly and laying it down beside me. I think he was half afraid I was going to prove him wrong and put one in him to make a point. " 's a whole diff'rent thing." he drawled.

At this point I was keenly aware of two things: number one, how much I wanted to punch his lights out and number two, how blue his eyes were. I knew he had steely blue eyes but I don't think I'd ever been that close. "You think I'm just some delicate little thing that needs protecting, some scared, helpless woman? You don't know me very well." I turned to leave, sidestepping him and trying to retrieve my bow.

Never said that." he said. He sounded exasperated. "I never said that." He reached out and grabbed me by the upper arm. "I know you ain't."

"Ain't _what_?" I wheeled around, facing him, glaring at the hand on me.

He dropped my arm and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yer' not...girlie."

"Girlie? Oh, please, Daryl, _do _explain." I said. I don't know why I was so mad, but I was truly pissed.

"Jesus." he sighed. "I know you ain't helpless. You can take care a' yer'self. I just mean, you're not into all that...stuff."

"What stuff?"

"That girl stuff. Yer' not worried about the hair, 'r makeup, shoes, clothes, you know." He was saying each with a slight whine to his voice. Mocking. "Ya' don't give a fuck if ya' break a nail. I've seen ya' up to yer' elbows in deer guts. I've heard ya' tell dirty jokes too. You're not a...prissy, stuck-up, girlie-girl." He was looking down at his shoes now, face flushed.

"When have I told _you _dirty joke?" I said, exasperated. I knew that I had never. Not in front of any of the guys, especially if there was a chance Carl would overhear .

"You were washing clothes with Andrea 'n Carol 'n you were all tellin' jokes. You told the one about the guy 'n the bar orderin' a cheese sandwich." He broke into a big smile and then caught himself.

"How did you..."

"Wind was in the right direction. I was in the woods. Heard everything you women said." I started shaking my head slowly, feeling the heat break across my cheeks. "Funny joke." he was grinning again.

"So you think I'm a tomboy?" I said, my hand on y hip. "Is that it? That I'm not a girl?"

"There's no good way outta' this, is there?" he was almost laughing now.

"Not really. Either end of the continuum, I get insulted." I said, glaring at him. "So which is it?"

"Jesus, don't get your undies in a bunch."

"Well, after that enthusiastic vote of confidence for my femininity, how can they NOT be in a bunch!" My voice was hard, strained. "Truth is, Daryl, if you knew anything _about _my undies you'd be singing a different tune." Aw, shit.

"Yeah?" he said, taking a step towards me. "How's that?"

"Because!" I said, realizing now _I _was getting into an argument with no good way out.

" 'cause _why_?" He took another step closer. He was close enough for me to catch a whiff of him now. Mother of mercy, he was all sweaty and woodsy, and manly. It'd been a long time since I'd smelled anything that good and bad all at the same time.

"Because it's none a' your business."

"You brought 'em up."

"No, you did! You said not to get them in a twist."

"Think I hit a nerve." he shook his head slowly, teasingly.

"You sure fucking did." I hissed. Neither of us was moving an inch.

"Oh, I ain't never heard you cuss before. Hit a big nerve. What do I need to know about 'em?"

"What?"

"You said if I knew anything about your undies, I'd change my tune."

"I...You..." I sputtered. "Forget it."

"Nuh-huh. Make me change my tune. Come on."

"Not on your life."

"Chicken shit."

"What did you just call me?"

"Chicken shit. You can't throw it out there and fold when I call your bluff. Chicken shit."

"What, you want me to show you?"

"Yeah, show me." He was grinning from ear to ear now. He knew damn good and well he had me and there was no way I was going to go that far to win the argument.

"Not on your life."

Daryl looked at me with an evil grin on his face, that little mole above the corner of his mouth pulled sideways. He opened his mouth and made a chicken noise. "Braaaaack. Braaaack."

"You ass." I glared at him. He just smirked even harder. "You're lucky I don't put an arrow in your butt."

"You best not even try."

"Or what?"

"Or it'll be the last time you use that arm." he said cooly.

"Really? You would break my arm?"

"Shoot me 'n see what happens."

We stood there a foot apart for what seemed like an hour. In reality it was a minute. Neither of us was willing to blink...or back down. I could hear his breathing and I'm not so sure he couldn't hear my heart pounding. I'm sure he could see the vein in my neck pulsing. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I don't know why he got to me so fast. I never thought of myself as really girlie, except for a couple things. But coming from him, it made me, well, sad. I used to wear makeup. Do my hair. I bought my share of cute shoes. But that's over. Hair now has to be walker-proof. Shoes should be made for running, kicking, stomping. Makeup? In this heat and humidity? I guess Daryl's right. I'm not girlie anymore. Well, except for the one thing about which I just should'a kept my mouth shut.

"I said sorry."

"What?" I blinked.

"Sorry."

"Wait, what? You're apologizing?"

"Jesus, how many times I got to say it?" he was squirming now.

"Sorry. I didn't hear the first one." I sighed. "It's ok. I shouldn't have been so thinned-skinned. It just..." I shook my head. "I don't want to argue. You hardly talk to me the way it is." Did I just say that?

"You could talk to _me_. 'stead a' tryin' to catch me lookin' at ya'."

I pressed my lips together as hard as I could to keep from smiling. He knew. "Truce?"

"Aw, what tha' hell. Don't wanna' end up with a bolt in my ass."

"It could still happen." I couldn't contain a grin any longer.

Daryl got a funny look on his face. He looked away and then cocked his head sideways, looking at me again. "Don't think so." he said He picked up his crossbow as he walked back towards camp. "Get busy. Ya' ain't _that _good yet, Girlie." he called over his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Aww, thanks for all the wonderful reviews, you guys! You're the best!_

**Girlie**

**Part 2**

Knock. Raise. Level. Pull. Sight. Release. Repeat. Over and Over. My arm wasn't hurting anymore. My pride was pretty sore, still. It had been a week at least after "the argument" as I was calling it now. Daryl hadn't tried to provoke me any more. He hadn't made a move. He sat next to me at dinner once and he's stopped apparently caring if I catch him looking at me but that's it. Oh well. I still had my bow and that's how I blew off steam. Practicing for hours.

I had just decided to finish for the day. It was late afternoon and the yip of a coyote fairly close caused me to send an arrow flying over the target and into the thick grass behind. I had to go get it. No sense in wasting arrows, that was just ignorant. I started off in the direction of the arrow, looking carefully at the ground and the grass to try to find it. The bright yellow fletching made it a bit easier to see in the green and brown but not my much in the afternoon light. My head down, focused on the arrow, I didn't see the walker coming at me from my right.

It was about forty foot away when it let out a high-pitched cry that made chills run down my spine. Horrible sound. Horrible sight when I looked up. The fact that it was so close didn't scare me as much as what it was. A kid. A boy about ten or eleven. It had a blue polo shirt on with one of those little patches sewn on the chest and a pair of khaki pants. Like he'd just come from the quaint local private school. It's jaw bone was exposed from a bite on the neck and there was blood and mud caked on his shirt and the pants. There was a huge bite on the front of his shoulder too and half the top of his arm was missing, making his backpack hang precariously to one side and causing him to lean, even more off-balanced than most walkers.

He was so damn _young_. I looked at him and took a couple steps backwards as he moved his head up, taking in my scent and moaning again. Short-cropped blonde hair that was still kinda curly, even matted with blood and leaves. He reminded me of Carl. This is what could happen to Carl. This is what _did _happen to Carol's little girl. This is what could happen to _any _kid.

At that point, as he continued to come towards me, picking up speed as he no doubt could smell me and now see me, I knew what I had to do. My hands were shaking as I drew an arrow from the narrow case on my hip. I didn't think I could do it. This was a kid. I kept walking backwards, hoping that something would happen, but he kept coming. I planted my back foot and raised the bow, closing my eyes as I sent the arrow flying. I knew I'd aimed for his heart and not his head. I just couldn't do it. The arrow went almost through him and he didn't stop. Not a step. He just kinda' jerked sideways a bit and let out a growl...and he kept coming.

The next arrow I pulled from the quiver with my shaking hand didn't miss. It wasn't aimed wrong. It had to go where it _had _to go. It hit him straight through the eye socket with a sickening squish, causing him to fall backwards. A second later, I fell to my knees, my bow clattering to the ground, my hands over my mouth to muffle a scream that was both terror and remorse. I sat there motionless until a couple minutes later, I was being hauled up by the arms and pulled backwards. Stumbling, I turned as Daryl grabbed me and pulled me to him.

"The HELL?" he said. He pushed me roughly to arm's length. "You bit? Did it scratch ya? Lemme see." He pawed at my shirt as I slapped his hands away.

"Stop it. Jesus! Just stop. I'm ok!" I said, my voice shaky. "It's dead."

He looked at me sternly and held up two fingers, shaking them. "What?" I said. "It's dead."

"Took ya' two tries. TWO!" he snapped. "Yer' better 'n that. What tha' hell 'r ya' thinkin'?"

I inhaled and stopped, not being able to exhale, looking from one of his eyes to the other. "I." I stopped to swallow and exhale slowly. "I panicked. He's just a...he was just a kid. I kept thinking about Carl. This could be Carl."

"He'd a bit ya'. Look how close he is." Daryl pushed me to the side to see around him and look at the walker. "Ya' can't think like that."

"I know. I _know_." I looked at him, biting my lip. "It was hard, Daryl. Shootin' a little kid in the face was..." my voice cracked a little and I closed my eyes briefly. "...so hard."

"Me havin' to shoot ya' when ya' turned would a' been harder." he said loudly, shaking me by the shoulders harshly. His eyes were dark, now, glaring. "Don't ever be soft again. Not with walkers. Ya' take 'em out first shot. Ya' hear? First shot!"

I nodded my head quickly and looked down at my feet as he loosened his vice-grip on my arms. Daryl pulled me towards him, leaned in and planted a hard kiss, so hard I had to fight my knees not to buckle. It was one of those emotional-combo-plate kisses. A smorgasbord of anger, fright, concern, relief, with a little desire mixed in. The kind of kiss that just comes out of nowhere and you can't take back, you don't want to take back, but if you're challenged you blame it on the heat of the moment. Least I thought that's what it probably was, given the circumstances. It lasted a lifetime in a second and made me totally forget about the walker until Daryl's rough lips drug across mine and he stepped back.

"Ya' ok?" he said, trying to get his breathing under control and calm down himself.

"Yeah. I'm ok. Daryl, we gotta' do something with the body. We can't leave it here. We can't let Carol see it. Or Lori either. They don't need to know about this." I noticed Daryl's hands had settled from my arms to my hips. He ran one hand through his hair from front to back.

"Can ya' walk back ta' camp?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Get a couple a' tha' guys 'n shovels without lettin' on like anything's wrong. We'll bury this thing quick. Don't let tha' women know."

I nodded and turned, running towards camp ahead of the quickly-falling twilight.

XXXXX

T-Dog and Shane were playing cards with Glenn at the table. I sauntered up to T-Dog from behind and put my arms around him, running my hands suggestively across his shoulders and down his massive arms. I leaned over to his ear and whispered. "I need you. I need you now." Shane was sitting closer than Glenn and he heard instantly, spitting out his toothpick and sucking a deep breath in dramatically. "Whoo-wheee!" he hissed, grinning from ear to ear.

T-Dog froze for a second and then turned around slowly on the bench. "Right _now_." I said quietly, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the front of his t-shirt. I looked to Shane and turned my head. "Bring your friend..." I purred. Shane blinked and looked at me blankly, his jaw dropping. "...and two shovels." I said it just loud enough for Shane and T to hear. I glanced up to check out where Carol and Lori were. Lori was no where to be seen, probably laying down in her tent, and Carol was sitting in a lawn chair, folding clothes while she kept an eye something simmering in a pot on the fire. I shot a glance between T-dog and Shane and mouthed the word "Walker." Shane nodded. "Young." I mouthed, looking again up towards Carol's direction.

"Oh, Baby, I'm feeling that!" T-Dog said, smiling from ear to ear. That's my boy, I thought as Glenn cleared his throat loudly and shifted in his seat. I looked over T-Dog's shoulder and shook my head slowly. He knew something was up, but from where he was, he didn't see what I had mouthed to T and Shane.

"I gotta hit the head." Shane announced loudly, standing up and stretching.

I looked at Glenn and let loose of T-dog. Poor Glenn was sitting there, clueless, a bewildered look on his face that practically begged for somebody to let him in on the goings-on. T-Dog stood up and left the table. I moved to Glenn and put my arms around him. "Aw, Glenn, that's the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to me." I said loudly and gave him a big hug, as Carol looked in our direction, smiled wistfully and then returned to her laundry.

"Walker in the woods. Little kid." I whispered in his ear as I hugged him tightly. "Don't tell Carol. Keep her occupied. We're going to go bury it."

Glenn grinned and nodded his head. "You're welcome." he said as I stood up and patted his arm a couple times for show.

I walked back towards the woods, seeing T-Dog exit the supply tent with two shovels. I arrived to find Shane already there, surveying the remains. "Damn close to camp." he said quietly as T-Dog stepped up, shovel in each hand. He threw one to Shane and looked at Daryl. "Over there?"

Daryl nodded and Shane handed me the shovel, passing it to me as they each took an leg and dragged the body a few yards further out. My stomach lurched as it wobbled and bobbled along the ground, catching on sticks and clumps of weeds. I took a deep breath and walked over to where they finally came to a stop. Pitching the shovel tip into the dirt, I stepped on the foot rest and had it buried halfway in when the hands pulled me back off the shovel carefully.

"No. We got this." the voice drawled softly.

"I killed it. I can do this." I said calmly. Shane shot T-Dog a quizzical look. I guess they assumed Daryl had dispatched the walker.

"Know that, but ya' ain't gonna. We got this." Daryl said, squeezing my arms gently. I let the shovel handle move to the side and he caught it with a hand. He motioned with his head for me to move aside and the shovel made a harsh, metal-ly ka-chink sound as it scraped a rock and plunged into the dirt. The guys switched off shoveling until the hole was deep enough that scavengers wouldn't be a problem. Nobody said much of anything. Everyone knew that this would have been a cruel reminder of events of the distant past and it was better just to bury it deep and keep quiet. Literally.

XXXXX

Daryl sat a plate of food down in front of me and I looked up just in time to see Lori elbow Rick in the side, throwing him a sideways glance. What she thought she was seeing, I don't know. What it really was, I don't know ether. He'd been acting different since I shot the walker and they buried it. Not weird. Not uncomfortable. Just, different.

"Thanks." I said quietly as he sat down next to me. Under the table, his booted foot knocked into mine and he left it there, resting against my foot. Like I said, different. He would have never in a million years done that before with the foot. He grunted and began eating the stew that Carol had put together with a couple of rabbits that Daryl had bagged and some canned vegetables.

"So, tell us, how are you coming along with the bow?" Dale said, looking across the table at me.

"Fine." I said. "I'm making progress."

Shane spoke up. "She's doin' real good." I looked down the table at him. He was nodding and half-smiling. "I saw her practicing the other day, she's a natural."

"Thanks." I said quietly. "I think I can hold my own." I said, glancing sideways at Daryl.

"She fuckin' _rocks_." he said, with a mouth-full of stew. "Ready to go out huntin' wi' me real soon." He took a swig of the warm beer in front of him.

"I don't know about _that_." I smiled. "Not sure you'd want a girl tromping through the woods with ya."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Least not a girlie-girl." he snorted.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! They make me so amazingly happy! Big cyber-hugs to you all!_

**Girlie **

**Chapter 3**

It was way after everyone had gone to bed that I heard the zip of the tent flap and the rustle of clothing a couple tents down. I turned over, thinking it was just T-Dog having to pee, but if I would have listened closer, I would have heard him snoring in his tent next door. I knew it wasn't a walker, walkers don't unzip tents, so I rolled back over and started to drift off again. In a second, I hear the sound again and it's my tent flap being unzipped this time. A hand appears in the darkness just as I'm ready to scream. It's waving a small bottle of rum back and forth. Daryl's head appears through the flaps next.

"Decent?"

"Yes." I snapped, trying to get the fright under control. "Pirate?"

"What?"

"You have rum."

"Oh. Yeah." he scoots in, letting the attempt at a joke roll off him. "Wanna drink?"

"Well, I dunno. You using 'drink' as a verb our a noun here?"

"Bottle's too small for a verb." he grinned. Sometimes he surprised me. This man ain't as dumb as he'd like folks to think he is. "I can't sleep."

"How's come?" I asked, throwing him a bed pillow. He plopped down on the air mattress with a sigh.

"Dunno. Found this 'n thought it'd help."

"Probably will if you drink it all." I said, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand. "Where do _I _fit into your little cure for insomnia?"

Daryl grinned. "So, we goin' huntin' soon?"

"You serious?" I gasped as the brown liquid ran down my throat, burning like fire. "Jesus God, that's cheap rum." I croaked.

He frowned. Even in the dim light of the tent I could make out his strong features. The nose. The square jawline. "Can ya' keep quiet?"

"Did _you _hear me scream when that walker showed up?"

He moved his head sideways, right then left, his neck snapping and crackling. "You gonna' be able to keep up?"

I passed the bottle back to him. "I'll manage."

"You gonna help me dress it and haul it back to camp if we find anything?"

"Why don't you just ask me if I'm going to wear a skirt and heels, that is what you're hinting at, right? Am I going to go all, ah, what do you call it, oh yeah, 'girlie' on you?"

"I told ya,' yer not girlie." he handed the bottle back again.

"Yeah, right. I'm not girlie." I snickered. "So I'm told."

"We done had this argument before. I know where this is headed." he laughed.

"I bet you do." I teased. "So when do you want to go?" I took a swig of the rum.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Oh, that soon? Do I have time to get my nails done before we leave?"

"Shut up." he groaned. He laid back on the pillow and propped one leg up on a bent knee, his feet on the blue plastic tarp that served as a floor cloth.

"How come we don't do this more often?" I asked.

"What?"

"Just hang out."

"You wanna' hang? With me?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Why not?"

"Dunno." Daryl was quiet for a while. "Never hung with a girl before."

"Uh, now, remember, I'm not a girl." I said wagging my finger.

"I kissed ya'. Yer' a girl." He rolled over on to his stomach, making "girl" sound like it had two syllables.

"Well, gee. Thanks. I'd started to wonder lately."

"Maybe you 'n tha' other girls ought ta' have one a' them, whatchcallits, ya' know where ya' go in ta' have yer' hair done 'n get a makeover 'n a massage'n all that crap."

"A spa day?"

"Yeah, that's it. A spa day." He had a twinkle in his eye as I handed him the bottle again.

"That's _such _a good idea, Daryl, and when we're done getting girlified, we could prance around in fancy little nighties and have..." I took the pillow from behind my back and hit him upside the head with it. "...a pillow fight! "Because that's what us girls do when we get together, we paint each others' nails and drink Mojitos then end up in a big ol' pile and roll around on each other naked."

Daryl set the bottled down, grabbed the pillow out of my hands and hit me back with it, knocking me backwards, climbing on top, his knees on either side of my hips. "Can I watch?" he said, leaning over me, pinning my arms above my head.

"For sure. You can video it! Oh, my bad. End of the world. Not enough batteries for the camera. Sorry Pumpkin!" I giggled as he hovered over me. "So, lemme' up?"

Daryl looked down and turned pale white and then beet red. Apparently he didn't realize the compromising position we were in. "Oh, shit." he said, moving off me quickly. "Sorry." he said under his breath.

"Not..." I said, sitting up and crossing my legs under my knees, "...a problem. So, tomorrow then?"

"Yeah."

I nodded my head. "K' then. Sounds good."

Daryl stood up and held the nearly-empty bottle down, offering me the last shot. I shook my head and he drained it and tucked it in his back pocket where the normally the faded red shop-rag could be found. He turned and left, tossing a causal "Night." over his shoulder.

I laid back on the pillow, taking a mental inventory of what had just happened. He trusts me enough to take me to the woods hunting. He remembers he kissed me. He thinks I'm a girl, but not a girlie-girl. He couldn't sleep so he brought a bottle over to share.

I turned to my side and tried to play name-that-feeling. I wasn't angry. Wasn't dejected. Frustrated, yeah, a bit. Oh here it comes. Confusion. That was it. I fucking hate being confused. Most of the time I could read people, but Daryl Dixon was not consistent. Sometimes he was linear, like an arrow, point A to point B. Other times, not so much. Lately he'd been a lot of not so much. At least he made my brain go all loopy trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Yup, I was confused. I didn't know what his deal was. Or, for that matter, what mine was. Most guys would have made a move. Even a little one. I tossed to my other side, hoping that the rum would have taken effect by now and at least I'd drop off before I had a chance to have to give this some serious thought. What did I want? Daryl? What would I have done if he _had _made a move? If more rum had been involved would _I _have been the one to make a move? Did I _want _him to make a move, was that it? The rum hit just as the last question popped into my head. At least I think so, because the next thing I know is I'm hearing Dale and Andrea talking and a couple of catbirds screeching and I realize that I am going to piss off Daryl right off the bat for being late.

XXXXX

Daryl exited his own tent looking a little worse for the wear, not even knowing that I had overslept. His hair was askew and he needed a shave more than usual, and he hadn't tied his boot laces. I looked at him and smirked. "Shut up." he growled, which made me smirk even harder.

We spent most of the day looking for deer. Old tracks were everywhere but no fresh ones to speak of. The one deer we did see from a distance was a doe and she had a pretty young fawn with her. Along the way, Daryl nailed about three rabbits. I, however, scored big points when we came up a small rise and there were about six wild turkeys scratching and ambling around. Daryl motioned for me to take a shot and after several deep breaths and a lot of self-encouragement, I hit one, sending the others scattering, half-flying half-running away, chattering and warbling.

"Daaaaymn." he drawled, jogging to the hen turkey lying on the ground. He turned around and looked at me and nodded his head, trying to hide a smile.

I walked up and peered over at the carcass. It was sad and exhilarating at the same time. I watched as he pulled out the arrow and wiped it on his pants, handing it back to me. "Nice." He pulled out his knife and we began to field dress the bird to get rid of as anything we could that might draw walkers to camp.

When we got back, we handed off the rabbits and the turkey to T-Dog and Carol and went to clean up. I sat down to a bucket of cold water and a bar of soap and there was a noise outside my tent. It was Daryl, asking if I wanted to go down to the tiny lake to wash up. Cold bath versus cold bath with Daryl. Hmm. I declined politely and damn him if he didn't sound just a bit disappointed.

Carol and T-Dog had the turkey plucked, dressed and ready for the spit by the time I came out of my tent. Daryl was heading past as well, hair still damp, clean sleeveless shirt sticking to him, his muscles rippling as he walked. I glanced at his face, holy shit he'd shaved. He still had his goatee and mustache, but he'd tidied up the rest. My mouth must have been open because he saw me staring and frowned. "What's _your _problem?"

I shook my head, embarrassed. "N-nothing." Any attempt to be casual was futile. "You look...nice."

He grimaced again and continued walking, disappearing into his tent. Shit, so much for compliments...or discretion. I looked at Andrea, who was now standing next to Carol at the fire pit as T-Dog and Glenn were working to maneuver the bird, impaled on the crosspiece, into position over the low fire. She smiled and walked over next to me. "You know, it's gonna be a few hours before this thing is ready to eat." she said quietly, looking in the direction of Daryl's tent.

"And?" I said blinking.

"Just sayin', you have time to kill," she was still smiling, "and I know how hunting can get emotions running pretty high."

"Uh-huh?" I was still not following her.

"Oh for heavens' sake, get your ass over there." she whispered. "You know you want to."

My face was bright red, I'm sure. "What?" I gasped. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you are both adults and you're missing an opportunity, Sweetie."

"Andrea, I can't."

"Go. Now. While he's clean." she laughed.

I turned and went back to my tent and sat down, her words echoing in my ears. I needed to think about what she said, but all I could think about was the way Daryl moved, the way he looked this afternoon after he'd returned from the lake. The way he felt sitting on top of me last night. Oh, then there was that kiss. I let my mind wander for a minute, indulging in some shameless fantasy. Shit. Andrea was right. Of course, she was not one to miss an opportunity. I'd noticed a couple things about how she and Shane interacted and put two and two together a while time ago. They'd definitely had sex. More than once.

I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, taking a mental inventory of the pros and cons of going to Daryl's tent right now. The list of cons was some serious shit: unplanned pregnancy, outright rejection and humiliation, ruining our friendship, embarrassment if anyone in camp found out, the guilt of sleeping with a guy I knew not a lot about, a guy I wouldn't probably have even met were if things were normal.

The pros won. It was a much shorter list. One word, actually. Daryl.

I knocked on the tent with two condoms in my back pocket and a half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey in the other. Who could refuse, right? Daryl grunted and I crawled in.

"Hey." I said. "You busy?"

"No." he was almost sullen.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothin'." Definitely sullen.

"You mad because I didn't go with you to clean up?"

"No."

"Will this make you in a better mood?" I held out the bottle.

"Ain't _in _a bad mood."

"Then what's going on? You're acting like your pissed off at me."

"Drop it." he said, taking the bottle from my hand and sitting down.

"Do you want me to leave?" I said, folding my arms.

"Do what you want."

"I want to figure out why you're angry."

"I ain't."

"Well if this isn't mad, what is it?"

Daryl just sat there, unscrewing the cap on the bottle slowly. Dramatically. "Nothin'." He took a long drink from the bottle and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "You stayin' or what?"

"No. You come find me when you're ready to tell me what you're so pissed off at." I turned and stooped to leave and heard a quick sound behind me. Daryl leaped to his knees and reaching out, had grabbed at the leg of my pants. I nearly tripped and fell forwards as he pulled me roughly back and on to the bottom of the mattress.

"What the hell?" I tried to say as he moved on top of me, nearly crushing me, kissing me roughly. His lips still burned from the god-knows-how-old Jameson's. I put my hands on his chest and tried to move my head sideways to break free. "Stop it. Daryl." I pushed on his chest hard. "Stop it!" He stopped for a second, his hands frozen, gripping my waist tightly. "Jesus would you _slow down_?"

He looked at me and I realized that what I had taken for anger was something different. His chest was heaving and his breath was ragged. His eyes were absolutely dark blue now, burning and intense. I scooted out from under him and moved higher up on the mattress. His mouth was open, like a cat, taking in as much air, as much scent of it's prey as possible. I could feel the heat from his breath a foot away. "I came over here to show you something." I said, scooting my hands through my hair. "I have a confession to make."

"What?" his voice tight.

"Uhm." I started to get nervous just from the sound of his voice and the look in his eye. This was hunter-Daryl. I'd seen that look before. "I wasn't being straight up with you about something."

"What?"

"Remember when I got pissed when you said I wasn't prissy and you said not to get my undies in a bunch?' I reached for the bottle next to the mattress. Whiskey was definitely going to be necessary for this.

"Yeah, so?" he was chewing on his thumb again, glowering.

"You were wrong."

"What?"

"You were wrong about me." I said. His blue eyes were still flashing.

"The' fuck 're ya' talkin' about?" he took the bottle out of my hand quickly and took another big swig, punctuating his loud swallow with a satisfied, if not slightly painful, "gaaaah."

"Oh, Jesus. Turn around."

"What the fuck."

"Turn _around_."

Daryl mumble-cussed about wasting time and being god-dammed cryptic as I undid my jeans and slid them off. He stopped grousing and got real quiet when he heard the zipper but he stayed turned around. I stood up carefully and lifted the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it off over my head and adjusted myself before I threw the t-shirt at the back of his head. "Ok."

Daryl turned around and dropped the bottle of Jameson's in his lap, fumbling to pick it up before the light brown spot on his leg grew any larger, barely able to look down to upright the bottle. "Holy fucking shit." he said loudly, his eyes big as saucers. He looked away long enough to set the bottle on the floor.

"Holy fucking _shit_!" he repeated, starting at my knees and sweeping his eyes upwards, stopping at my chest. "I...I..."

"I know, you were probably expecting camo, right? Or at least plain white cotton?"

Daryl looked at me, a grin from ear to ear, eyes still wide, eyebrows up. I don't know what he was more interested in, the silk push-up bra with the lace trim or the matching lace bikini panties with silk piping around the waist and legs. They were a deep crimson red, which stood out against my pale skin. The panties dipped low in the front and were cut high in the back. Daryl reached up and pulled me to my knees in front of him, his hands moving to the elastic and silk on the panties. He ghosted it with his fingers, tracing the pattern with a feather-light touch. I could feel the heat of his hands through the sheer lace. He reached up to run a hand over the cup of the bra and I let out a little gasp.

"_Tell _me ya' didn't have these on when we were out today" He said, not taking his eyes off of me.

"No." I looked down at my feet and glanced back up, squinting like I was about to get smacked. "I had on my black lace ones then."

"Fuck _me_." he shook his head.

"It's kind of the last desperate attempt for me to keep something of the way we used to live. I'm not doing a lot of normal girl-stuff nowadays. I guess this is how I hold on. I confess, Daryl. I've been lying to you. I'm really _am_ a girlie-girl."

"So, all this time?"

"Yup."

"You _always _wear this stuff?" He said, his head was bent slightly and his eyebrows were still raised.

"Nope." I said seriously, cupping his chin and raising his eyes to meet mine. "Sometimes I don't wear any at all."

Daryl bit his tongue and let out a high-pitched whine as his hands moved down and his thumbs ran over the skin of my stomach. That was the day that Daryl Dixon came to realize that a little bit of girlie, even underneath it all, might not be such a bad thing.


End file.
